An Evening with the Finest Call
by yimmy-kins
Summary: This is what happens when reality television goes so very wrong...
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Here's a little piece of drabble I whipped up at a moment's notice. Don't really know where I'm going, so if you have any suggestions, I'm more than glad to listen!

* * *

_**An Evening with the Finest Call**_

by

Yimmy

* * *

Shego sat on her bed, flipping through a random fashion magazine and ruining her diet on some greasy, high sodium, high fat chips. The evil villain business ground to a screeching halt in the last few months, and surprisingly, it wasn't the fault of one dreaded, goody-goody Kim Possible. Seemed like everyone with spare time and a pair of cargo pants was getting into the world saving act nowadays, and well, that just made for bad business, especially when "business" was stealing things and trying to take over the world.

Why, just in the past week she had to fend off her good-for-nothing-except-good siblings, a rabid pack of soccer moms calling themselves M.A.U.D. (Mothers Against United Delinquents), a bunch of independent contractors from Global Justice (apparently, Cajun chefs qualified as international crime fighters now), and a surprisingly well trained tandem of attack poodles belonging TV personality Prichard Simmeons.

Shego let out a bitter sigh and continued to idly page through her magazine. At least Drakken was still paying her. And speaking of Drakken, "That neurotic nitwit hasn't called since Monday," Shego muttered, "Wonder what kind of trouble he's got himself into."

But before more wondering could progress, three figures dressed in ski masks and SWAT team outfits crashed through her very expensive, handcrafted, Italian stained-glass windows. While their entrance was synchronized and stylish, their landing wasn't. Thug number one crashed into thug number two, resulting into a tangle of legs and arms that tripped thug number three, depositing the aforementioned thug face first in front of a shocked Shego.

Of course, the shock didn't last very long. Her peaceful countenance gave way to an angry scowl as green flames erupted in her clenched fists which, by the way, burned the magazine she was reading to cinders. She hauled the fallen interloper to his feet—at the same time lighting his vest ablaze—and threw him into his recovering compatriots. Grunts, groans, and shouts of pain emanated from the ground before the trio very suddenly got their act together and sprung to their feet.

"Get out," Shego sneered, "I don't want to know who you are, what you want, or how you got past my security system. Out I say!"

Without batting an eye, thug number one roared, "We are the-"

"Xtreme Extremes: Justice Makers of the NIGHT!" finished thug number two, making some sort nonsensical arm waving motion that was suppose to be cool.

Thug number three finally realized where the fire was coming from (himself) and began rolling on the floor to put it out. A moment of silence hung in the air until the two previous thugs broke their stance to check on their friend.

"Awww, geez, Mike," whined thug number one, "you're suppose to say 'Battling evil to the Xtremes!'"

"Shut up Ben! You're not the one on fire! And what are you two doing standing there? Help me!"

"Definitely, yeah, uh-huh, Mike definitely needs some help," stammered thug number two.

All the while Shego went ignored. Normally, she'd be seething, but today, the bumbling crime fighters allowed her enough time to search under her bed for that grenade she'd been saving for a rainy day. With a pull of the pin and a toss in the three amigos' direction, the explosion sent them flying out the way they came in.

Grenade: $100. Carpet replacement: $5,000. Stain glass window repair: $20,000. Putting those wanna-be heroes into orbit?

"Priceless," Shego chuckled.

So there were char marks on her wall. So the carpet was a bit singed. So the windows were shattered. All of that could wait; today was her day off. For the moment, Shego just wanted to rest her racing nerves and relax before she had to set about repairing her home and fuming over ever increasing harassments by random "justice makers."

Plopping back down on her bed, she turned the TV on after realizing her magazine was a pile of ashes. Immediately, an annoying voice greeted her.

"Freaky!" exclaimed Adrena Lynn, turning back to camera. "If you're just joining us, welcome to my freaky new, number one hit show: Real Justice! Every week, people can send in tapes of themselves fighting freaky evil villains, and if your battle for righteousness is awesome enough, you will be invited to come with me on my weekly, Adrena-Lynn-style bust of megalomaniac masterminds! Come on people! Explosions! Espionage! EXTREMES! This is the first and only show that offers extreme, freaky, reality-based justice! Do some good in the world and I, Adrena Lynn, will make it worth your while here on…"

"REAL JUSTICE!"

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

"Kinda quiet isn't it?"

Kim Possible, full-time student, part-time secret agent, dejectedly dipped a nacho in some cheese and nibbled at it. "It's been too quiet, Ron."

The field portion of Team Possible—Kim, Ron, and Rufus—sat at a very empty Bueno Nacho getting what would've been a well-earned recharge before rushing off to save the world. Only today, there was no world to save thanks to everyone and their mothers (literally) trying to out-do each other to get on that good-for-nothing, fake-stuntwoman Adrena Lynn's stupid reality series. As soon as criminals showed their faces, scores of people would descend on them in a frenzy to score the more stylish capture. Didn't matter if the enemy was Duff Killigan or a cutpurse. In fact, Lower, Middle, and Upperton had turned into some of kind of vigilante-run zone resembling a wild west saturated by self-proclaimed lawmen. All this, of course, put Team Possible on the back burner seeing how no one bothered going on the website anymore.

Which was all very, very ironic to Kim Possible.

"I thought I'd enjoy a few months off," she sighed, "But I don't."

Ron just dug into another naco and turned the conversation to more happy thoughts. "KP, you can start doing stuff you never have time for!"

"Like what? I have all my homework done, the cheerleaders somehow became their own vigilante squad, the Tweebs are suddenly everyone's gadget makers, Monique and Wade are caught up in this Real Justice scam too, and every other store in town is closed because everyone is ditching work to look for criminals."

"Well," said Ron, scratching his head, "At least crime is down. You might not like Adrena Lynn, but you have to admit she's done a good job making the world a safer place."

And that put Kim deeper into her depression despite the positive results. "Yeah, can't fault her for that, but I have a feeling she's up to no good, as usual."

"Just enjoy the days off then!" Ron cheerily pointed out. "You can like… umm… uhhh…."

"Do homework? Baby-sit the Tweebs? Hang out at Bueno Nacho more?"

All of which seemed like terrible ways to spend the day. Kim didn't need to say this for Ron to get the message and he was appropriately speechless. Taking that as her cue, Kim slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed for the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ron."

A faint "See ya, KP!" faded into the background as she walked, her feet on autopilot and navigating her in the general direction of home.

Why be this annoyed at NOT having to save the world? Ok, because that phony Adrena Lynn was the one up to no good--that point was well established in Kim's mind. She couldn't be doing any of this out of the kindness of her black heart. Besides, did wanna-be stuntwomen with penchants for saying "freaky" have hearts? No, they couldn't. And that left Kim with her original, and now only possible, explanation for her recent depressive funk.

Adrena Lynn was stealing her thunder despite being exposed on the air as a fraud.

What a travesty! What an injustice! What-

"-the hell!" grunted the woman Kim just bumped into.

"Sorry," Kim reflexively said, extending her hand out to the fallen woman, "I wasn't watching where I was... was..."

Long black hair? Pale skin? Green outfit? Annoying scowl? Individual qualities formed together to paint one name for Kim.

"Shego?" she blurted in surprise.

"That's right Kimmie, and don't you forget."

All thoughts of courtesy and helpfulness thrown out the window, Kim dropped into her fighting stance and backed away from her nemesis.

"What do you want?" she cautiously asked, ready to strike. "Another one of Drakken's schemes? Training Junior again?"

Shego further narrowed her eyes. "If you must know, I was about to get a bite to eat before I throttled that good-for-nothing Adrena Lynn to death, but now that you're here, I'll settle for kicking your scrawny little butt."

As she tried to digest what Shego said, some few thoughts didn't compute in Kim's head. Could it be that both Kim Possible and Shego were actually in agreement about something?

"Wait, wait," Kim said, "You're after Lynn too?"

"Too?" Shego snorted, "What do you mean 'Too?' I'm the evil villain who's getting her style cramped by that... that... freak! What does an altruistic busy body like you want with her?"

Kim was about to fire back her own scathing retort when the ground began to shake. Both women glanced at each other briefly before turning their attention up the street.

"Did you feel that?"

Shego nodded slowly. "Awww shit..."

At first, Kim and Shego could only feel them. Then, they could hear them. Thousands of voices all shouting catch phrases and supposedly witty barbs designed to strike fear into evil doers. Thousands of footsteps thundered across the concrete like a herd of cattle.

Finally, the viewers of Real Justice appeared, each decked out in their own humiliating costume. Some brandished guns, others held melee weapons, still some had unintelligible gadgets spouting smoke—all had cameras.

There was Jimmy and the Drive-Bys, a group consisting of Jimmy and his drive-thru cohorts at Bueno Nacho. There was the dreaded Bonnie Rockwaller and her Cheer Squad, pom-poms, mini-skirts, and dance routine in tow. There was Brick Flagg shouting nonsensical sports idioms like "Fourth and goal on the field of justice!"

Let's not even get into the other football players.

And all of them trained their eyes on Shego... until Josh Mankey—dressed as Monkey Man, the Man of a Thousand Monkeys—declared, "That's Kim Possible with Shego! They must be working together!"

Kim raised her arms in a universal sign of "Please stop! You're making a mistake!"

Shego, meanwhile, took off running. Following a barrage of laser beams from a cluster of store clerks, Kim followed Shego's lead.

A hop and a skip there, a little kick and a punch, and soon, our duo stood on the roof of a building, legions of vigilantes clambering after them.

"Any bright ideas, Possible?"

Surroundings? Air conditioning grate, random garbage can, and umm... the ledge.

Shego followed the red head's line of vision and frowned in disapproval. "No way am I going to hide in the trash or crawl through a maze of dirty ducts."

"Just follow me."

Ten seconds later, the pack of hunters scrambled onto the roof. There was the ledge, a now open air conditioning grating, and a bunch of noise rattling from it.

"Forward, Drive-Bys!" shouted Jimmy, "They're escaping into the building!"

Like a can of sardines, everyone tried to cram into the much too small grating. Feet, arms, weapons, and various other objects backed up the ventilation but they still piled on with no regard for human life.

Shego glanced at Kim as they hung from the ledge. "You think the trashcan will fool them for long?"

"Long enough. Come on, let's get out of here and find out what's going on."

"Wow. Took you this long to realize that the entire state's population is acting strange?"

* * *

_Twenty minutes later at a random Middleton Park..._

"Where's your tech genius now, huh? Oh yeah, what about Stoppable? My God, Possible, who taught you how to sneak like that? And in THOSE shoes? You're practically a walking disaster! Puh-leez, get with the program and try to be stylish. Besides, why do you good guys have the worse fashion sense? That shirt does absolutely nothing for your figure and the cargos? Don't even get me started on the baggy cargos."

Enough was enough. The two had tried really hard not to be seen, sticking to side roads and generally being very stealthy. Obviously, something (namely Adrena Lynn's show) warped the minds of everyone in town. With Wade in on the act and Ron not your stealthy kind of person, Kim decided against contacting the rest of her team, instead choosing to rely on Shego since they did have a common enemy.

But Shego made things difficult by running her mouth nonstop. Everything was fair game with her and her voice became a constant drone of insults, unwanted critiques, and unyielding boasting. Then there was also the issue of her being a backstabbing crook who didn't work well on the side of good. The run-in with Team Go still lingered in Kim's mind.

Yup, enough was enough.

"So not the drama, Shego."

"Oooh," Shego cooed, "Getting saucy. Why Kimmie, I didn't know you cared."

Arrrgh! Shego could be so... so... Shego! She embodied arrogance, evil, and selfishness in one tight, voluptuous, aggravating package! That mouth of hers! That attitude of hers! That...

Wait a second.

"Did I say voluptuous?"

"Dirty thoughts already?" Shego smiled, sidling up to Kim in a most seductive manner.

To that, the red head clobbered her companion's arm with a stiff punch. "Mind on problem," hissed Kim, attempting to hide her embarrassment. "Do you know where Adrena Lynn is?"

Shego rolled her eyes. "Duh, her studio. Where else do you think people mail their videos to?" After a moment silence, she added with a touch of amusement, "Shego: 1. Kimmie: 0."

Of course with extra emphasis on the zero.

Great. Now she kept score. Kim suppressed yet another sigh, something she found herself doing an awful lot tonight. "Fine. Let's bust in and make her famous."

"Can't you come up with something better than that?"

"What's wrong now?" Kim snapped.

"First of all, she's already famous. Much more than you I might add if this Real Justice garbage is any indication. Second, 'busting in' anywhere is so 90's cliché. Are we on **_Cops_** or something? And-"

"SHUT YOUR FREAKIN' PIE HOLE BEFORE I SHUT IT FOR YOU!"

Shego blinked once, twice, three times. "Shego: 1. Kimmie: 1."

At least the score was even.

* * *

- To be continued... 


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! A number of you wondered if this was going to turn into a kigo fic, and honestly, I don't know. I've played with the idea but I'm partial to having no pairings in this story, just something like a good ol', randomKP episode. For now, I'm just writing and keeping my options open.

* * *

_**Some time later at the studio of Real Justice...**_

Breaking and entering—both Kim and Shego did their fair share of it. Usually in the hero/villain business, some kind of security got involved. Armed androids, alarms connected to the "proper authorities," infrared lasers, steel doors, patrolling henchmen, landmines, keep out signs—something served to make infiltrating a bank vault or criminal's lair interesting.

However, on the scale of interestingness, Adrena Lynn's new digs rated a negative four. In fact, about the only thing interesting was the slightly ajar door which sported a nicely decorated welcome mat.

"I don't like this," Shego muttered, peering around the darkened studio. Her senses reached and reached but found only silence and stationary shadows.

"You think I like this any more?" scoffed Kim as she ducked behind some props.

"Well excuse me, Possible."

"You're excused."

"Bite me."

"You wish."

"Bitch."

"Shut up, Shego."

"No, you shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"Very original, Kimmie."

"Very original, Kimmie."

"Don't make me barbeque you."

"Don't make me barbeque you."

Brow twitching, Shego took a swipe at Kim, a swipe the red head easily dodged. "You want help or not?"

"Not if you're going to keep up that attitude."

"Like you're any better! Little miss perfect isn't as innocent as she looks!"

Arms folded, Kim turned her head away. "I'm only defending myself! You're the one who always starts it. Every time we meet it's always you throwing the first punch or comment."

"Very mature, Possible. I like the whole entire 'she started it' whining business. I can see how you belong with those airhead cheerleaders."

"And I can see how you belong with Drakken."

Shego opened her mouth to retort but couldn't counter. Drakken was quite slow, and honestly, hanging with him took a toll on her reputation, self-esteem, and overall intelligence. The slight hesitation brought a triumphant smile to Kim's face.

"Oh my, I am so hurt."

The voice decidedly did not belong to either Kim or Shego. In fact, it sounded like Drakken's. Seeing as how Drakken stepped out of the shadows on the opposite side of the studio, the voice did belong to Drakken.

"Shego," the super villain continued, "you're a disappointment. What good is a sidekick if she doesn't even defend your honor?"

"Can it, Dr. D," said Shego, still seething from her various exchanges with Kim Possible. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Being a super villain, of course. I've finally come up with the ultimate plan to take over the world!"

"Oy, this better be good..."

"It is, my dear Shego," preened Drakken, "I've built the Broadcasting Cerebrotron!"

A cricket chirped in the background as everyone blinked in confusion.

With great patience, Shego dropped her hands to her side and mumbled the mandatory sidekick line, "What does it do?"

Unperturbed, Drakken forged blindly ahead. "I'm glad you asked because it also brings me to another important point: you're fired!"

Fired? "Wait a second, you can't fire me," blurted Shego, "I've broken you out of jail too many times! I've stolen too much for you! I've even stuck by you when you worked with Monkey Fist! MONKEY FIST!"

"Very true," Drakken allowed, "But you're a has-been! You're the sidekick of yesteryear! I want you to say hello to all my little friends!"

With a grand sweeping motion of his arms, the studio lights turned on, revealing Adrena Lynn standing behind Drakken.

Shego balled her fists, green fire, ready to incinerate, crackling from her hands. "You're firing me and hiring HER?"

"Not just her," corrected Drakken, "But her."

He pointed to his left and out came another Adrena Lynn.

"And her."

Another leapt out of a garbage can.

"And her."

Another walked out of the bathroom.

"And her, and her, and her, and her, and her, and her..."

He rambled on and on, each time an Adrena Lynn popping out of another random place. By the time Drakken got done, Adrena Lynns lined the studio wall, each peering around the others in approval.

"FREAKY!" all the Adrena Lynns cackled in unison before breaking down in laughter.

"Clones," Shego spat, "You're dumping me for a bunch of clones?"

"I have a sidekick who is willing to be cloned," Drakken said, folding his arms, "She's rich so I can pay her less. She already has medical and dental insurance. And the best thing? She treats me with respect!"

Oh, this had to be a new low. Drakken dumping her for Adrena Lynn? Miss I'm Named After a Hormone? And why? Because she didn't need health insurance?

"Have you gone insane, Dr. D?"

"No, I've gone the way of the Cerebrotron! It's brainwashed all of the stupid local inhabitants into incompetent crime fighters! With her TV show, Adrena puts me into everyone's living room so I can work my genius!"

"But why didn't it work on me? I saw her crappy show too!"

"My, my," Drakken shook his head, "How the mighty have fallen. And people said you were the smart one! Don't you see? Crime fighters need criminals to capture. Anyone who isn't with the masses gets thrown in jail! I've made it so people I find dangerous will not be affected! That way, those roving idiots will eliminate my competition for me! Meanwhile, they worship Adrena Lynn and cling on her every word. All we have to do is give them a target and they will destroy it! Pretty soon, the Cerebrotron will have reprogrammed the masses enough that we won't even need this Real Justice show any more! By that time, my word will be law!"

Throughout the rant, Kim took the time to sneak off, climb up to the rafters, tie a piece of rope around a girder, and generally prep for the upcoming battle. Choosing the lull in Drakken's speech to strike, she swan dived downwards, slamming her shoulder against the aforementioned villain's stomach with a resounding thud.

The amalgam of hands and feet rolled about a short time, finally ending with Kim Possible seated atop the chest of a passed out Drakken.

"Well," Kim smiled, dusting imaginary lint off her shoulders, "That was easy."

"Not so fast!" yelled a host of nearby Adrena Lynns. They surrounded the red head and pounced all at once. Hey, one-on-one Adrena had no chance against Kim Possible, but twenty-on-one odds favored the reality TV hostess.

From her backpack, Kim produced a large spray bottle of soda and blasted her attackers with it. She expected moans, groans, and screams of "Heeeeelp! I'm melting!" but instead, she got a plethora of coughs and gasps. The good news? She didn't get throttled to next Sunday. The bad news? Soda merely soaked the clones.

"Funny. I remember soda working much better last time."

Then all hell broke loose. Those clones not stunned by the soda barrage leapt in to attack. Kim grabbed the rope she swung down on and did her best Tarzan imitation only to glide gracefully into more Adrena Lynns. Meanwhile, Shego disappeared under a doggy pile of clones, flashes of green flames growing more intermittent as time passed.

Yes, everything's possible with Kim Possible, and yes, Kim lay claim to some awfully flashy moves, but Jackie Chan she was not. A lucky blow to the temple knocked her for a loop, allowing the clones to rally themselves, press their advantage, and get cameras to film a Texas sized ass whoopin' of the great Kim Possible.

One of the Adrena Lynns strutted in front of the cameras, which were far away from most of the action in order to avoid any "mishaps." "If you're just joining us, I, Adrena Lynn, want to welcome to this very special edition of Real Justice. I am proud to bring you all you freaky viewers at home the capture of Middleton's most dangerous criminal, Shego! On our bust, we also found out the dastardly damsel was aided by none other than supposed crime fighter, Kim Possible! Freaky! I mean-"

A loud roar of rage—followed by an eruption of green fire—to the side signaled Shego's escape from under the doggy pile.

"That's it! I've had it! No more nice Shego! The next clone to touch me gets their face ripped off!"

A bunch of Adrenas decided to test the threat, and even with her best effort, she couldn't keep her promise. Block, block, block, dodge, punch (Ouch), kick to the shin (What a cheap shot), block, push, fall, block, block, punch, punch, kick, boot to chin, fist to stomach, kick, block--yeah, Shego wasn't happy. To make her day worse, three of the Adrena Lynn clones picked her up and rocketed her into the studio wall.

Groggy, she failed to see the same thing happen to Kim... which wouldn't have meant jack-squat to Shego if aforementioned red head wasn't heaved into her. Credit their resiliency though because despite the jaw-shaking, ear-ringing, gut-busting collision, the two didn't black out.

"Bleah," groaned Kim as she rolled off of Shego, "My entire body hurts."

"Big baby."

Argh! "Like you're not hurt."

"I am, but you don't see me crying about it."

"Give me a break, tough girl. I doubt you're hurting more than me."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Who was the one at the bottom of that doggy pile?"

"Who crashed into Drakken from the ceiling?"

"That ceiling? Kimmie, Stoppable's pink rat could stick that landing."

"Leave Rufus out of this!"

"Fine, Stoppable could stick that landing."

"Leave Ron out of this!"

"Touchy much? Maybe it's because you're a whiner."

"Must be shameful always losing to this touchy, whiny baby of a cheerleader, isn't it Shego?"

"I don't lose to you!"

"Do too."

"Do not!"

"Do too."

"Do not!"

"Ahem," an Adrena Lynn coughed, "Hey, like, totally filming here. Nobody wants to see two no talent villains freakin' out on each other. They want to see me, Adrena Lynn, and REAL JUSTICE!"

Shego's right eye twitched. "No talent?" she hissed.

"Villains?" Kim asked incredulously.

"What are you going to do about it? There's two of you and a hundred of me."

By happenstance, Kim noticed the windows boarded up. Not a great revelation mind you, but the combination of shoddy craftsmanship, duct tape, and half-hammered, half-bent nails set off some alarms in her head. The job was horribly done, as if whoever did it raced against time or wasn't concentrating. What could ever possess someone to splurge so much on a nice studio and drop the ball on something as simple as boarding up windows?

While Kim mused, Shego went ballistic. Large fireballs encased her hands; her eyes seemed to smolder with burning plasma and hatred as she rose to her feet. "Come a little closer and I'll show you what I'm going to do about you, your clones, and your two bit show."

"Freaky," Adrena scoffed, not a hint fearful, "You're almost good enough for my camera. Like, almost."

A wide burst of green flames erupted from Shego's arms. For one brilliant moment, the studio's insides grew bright enough to blind. Kim, lying a hair behind her nemesis, felt the unnatural heat threatening to scald her if she even inched toward its mistress. The vortex of destruction lasted only a few seconds, and like it was never there, collapsed into nothingness.

All around stood Adrena Lynns in various states of charred-ness. The ones in front were blackened and blinking like Wily Coyote after one of his Acme rockets exploded. Others had frazzled hair, puffs of smoke coming from their mouths, and definitely ruined clothes. Those in the back remained as pristine as they day they were cloned.

Exhausted, Shego dropped to her knees. Sweat beaded off her forehead and dripped onto the heated ground--droplets of perspiration hissed into steam. About ten Adrena Lynns crumbled into ash, but the others, only a handful of them tagged by the flames, got irate, oblivious to the devastating attack of a few seconds ago.

"Shit... there's too many of them..."

"And we're going to kick some freaky Shego butt!"

And boom went the dynamite. Errr, rocket shoes actually. Hold on! This'll make more sense if it's stopped, rewound, and played.

While Shego and Adrena got into their impromptu staring match and time kept on slippin', slippin' , Kim clicked her heels together Dorothy style and pulled her shoes off. From the back popped rocket boosters, any world-saving teenager's best friend in a tight situation (Well, except for Ron who hurt himself real bad with these things once, but he was the exception.). Oh, and some cool little skates ejected out the bottom too! Aiming the footwear at the two other poorly boarded up windows across the studio, Kim let the projectiles fly, fly like an eagle to the sea, to the revolution baby!

And boom went the rocket shoes, busting through two by fours and duct tape like eight hundred watts of bad seventies rock music through the thin walls of a university dormitory. Kim turned and wretched the boards loose from the window closest to her. Before she could even say "Gosh, Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," a bunch of shrill cries of "Freeeeeaky! I'm melting!" reverberated through the studio. Taking a hint, Shego raised her tired hands to the roof, summoned the very last of her reserves, and cut a gaping hole in the ceiling.

More sunlight tumbled into the studio; more Adrena Lynns disappeared into gooey, chewy, semi-fruity puddles of clone sludge. They disappeared until one of them, the one furthest from the fight and holding a camera, remained.

The real Adrena Lynn ran out the door. Kim was about to give chase when Adrena's surprised yelp, followed by the knocking of a skull on cement, stopped her. Carefully, she tip toed over to one of the demolished windows to check out what happened.

Adrena Lynn lay sprawled out on the ground, unmoving but still breathing. One of Kim's rocket skate shoes lounged on its side a little too innocently.

Hey, when you're good, you're good.

* * *

- To be continued... 


End file.
